Page 68 of On the Edge

“I know you will.” Sean closed his eyes again, shifting the baby to his other shoulder. “And yes, you’re older, but that one gay celebrity couple Rowan is always talking about has a twenty-year age gap, and they just welcomed baby number three.”

“Yeah,” I said absently, studying the tiny Murphy and her wee little pink bow and itty bitty shoes peeking out from under her half-on princess blankie.

“You better not let my mom or sisters see that wistful face, or they’ll have a list of adoption and surrogacy agencies ready.”

“Understood.” I chuckled, then sobered. “So, we’re cool?”

“We’re cool.” Sean smiled slowly, the first genuine smile I’d seen from him in weeks.

“Cake!” Declan arrived then, loaded down with cake plates. “Brought you some too, Dad.”

As soon as he’d handed out the plates, Declan earnestly grabbed my hand as if he’d protect me from all comers, his father included. My chest lifted and swelled, struggling to contain my heart.

“And it’s nice to see you two talking. You look great today, Dad. And?—”

“We’re not fighting.” Sean laughed before Declan could ramble on, and I joined in. “I was telling Jonas that if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I am happy.” Declan beamed. “Are you happy enough to cover for us leaving early? There’s something I want to show Jonas.”

“That thing you showed?—”

Declan made a warning noise as he cut off his father. “As a surprise.”

“Ah. Yeah, go on after your cake.” Sean made a shooing motion with his free hand before settling the sleeping baby again. “And I’ll save you from Grandma loading you down with leftovers.”

“Knew I loved you.” Declan made a loud kissing sound over his father’s head, and the three of us laughed. Maybe our friendship was salvageable after all. Changed, but not destroyed.

A short time later, we were on one of the smaller county highways leading away from Mount Hope.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re driving?” I shifted around in the passenger seat, trying and failing to guess what the surprise might be.

“East.”

I groaned. “I can see that.”

“Patience.” Declan shot me an exasperated look. “You’re a bad passenger princess.”

“Sorry.” I grit my teeth to avoid asking how much longer.

“And usually, I love letting you drive.” Declan’s tone turned suggestive. “But just trust me this one time.”

“Okay.” I calmed my racing brain as Declan turned down a long, bumpy country road and then an even longer, bumpier private drive. Declan pulled up near an older home, somewhere between a cabin and farmhouse in style, and likely a good fifty-plus years past any major renovations. The whole property had an overgrown, neglected feel, with blackberry brambles along a sagging fence near the house and more weeds than grass. Beyond the house was a huge pasture of some sort and severalaged outbuildings in various states of disrepair. The place had an empty, eerie air and smelled like wet dirt and pine. “Where are we?”

“You’ll see.” Declan gave a sly smile as he exited the truck, and I followed suit. “Back in the seventies, this was one of the area’s first private dirt bike tracks.” Declan gestured at what I’d assumed to be pasture land. “An old pumpkin and dairy farmer left the place to his dirt bike racing hippy kid who turned it into a track of sorts. Then, more recently, the hippy’s kids had no idea how to keep it up, so it stayed empty a lot of years while they argued their way through probate.”

“The property is for sale?” I took a closer look around, taking in the house’s metal roof, intact windows, and wide porch.Potential.Narrowing my eyes, I turned my attention to the land beyond the house, trying to see what Declan might see there. Acres of land for sure, heading into woods that presumably dropped down to the nearby river. Where I saw lumpy earth, rocks, and weeds, a dirt bike rider might see paradise.

“It’s not on the market yet. But my mechanic, Joey, knows someone who knows someone. I could get a good deal on it.” Declan’s arch tone was smug, but there was also an uncertainty that gave me pause. My pulse sped up and sweat gathered at the back of my neck.

Walking toward the house, I stepped inside the saggy front fence. A long time ago, there had been a raised garden bed on the side of the house. Every window was dusty, but I envisioned new, upgraded windows in their place. Fresh paint. Shored up porch. Replaced fencing. I hadn’t peeked in the windows yet, but I could imagine a full kitchen and bath remodel, if nothing else.

“I know it’s not much now.” Declan followed behind me. “It’s got good bones, though, or so the real estate agent says.”

“Might take a lot of work to find those bones,” I warned. “Do you have any DIY aspirations?”

“I’m Sean Murphy’s kid.” Declan used a bragging tone even as the uncertainty remained in his eyes. “Dad made sure I had my own set of tools before I had a bike. And full disclosure, I showed him the place already. I wanted to make sure the DIY king agreed about the potential.”

“Well then.” My brain spun, fast heart rate making me a bit spacey and dazed. I wasn’t sure exactly what Declan was after here, but something made me undeniably twitchy with anticipation. “And you like the place?”

---